


Death Takes A Holiday

by Darkrivertempest



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Gallows Humor, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/pseuds/Darkrivertempest
Summary: Severus thinks it is the end. Unbeknownst to him, it is only the beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DHW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHW/gifts).



> Written for Darkheartwalsh at the 2016 SSHG_giftfest community on LiveJournal.
> 
> I chose DHW's prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Severus dies in the shack, but it’s not the end. Bonus points if you can work a bit of Pratchett-y Death in there._
> 
>  
> 
> Since she asked for 'Pratchett-y Death', that's what I tried to give her. Hence, there are multiple quotes by Terry Pratchett in this story (which belong to him, and never me), as well as quotes on life and death from notable fellows such as Roosevelt, Camus, Jung, Voltaire and Asimov. 
> 
> I chose not to offer warnings, as I think it would give a bit of the plot away. Nothing is graphic, however, and you may be pleasantly surprised. 
> 
> To my beta: Delphipsmith, you are a goddess. I love you and thank you for keeping me sane these past few months when the world was crashing down. Thank you for being so patient when every other minute, some catastrophe was looming. You are what is best in this world.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** _The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

“That is going to leave a mark.”

Severus Snape, clutching at the ragged gash in his neck, glared at the hooded figure leaning over him. “Piss… off!” he rasped, pain lancing through him with every meagre breath. He spat out the poisoned blood that had gathered in his mouth, watching with satisfaction as it landed on the hem of the being’s garment.

The blunt end of a scythe landed on the floor of the Shrieking Shack with such force that the shockwave reverberated throughout the building. “That will stain.” The cowl dropped from the being’s head to reveal a skeletal visage. “Do you realise how hard it is to remove blood splatter?”

What little air Severus could expel disappeared when the being’s laser blue gaze fixed upon him. Its jaw never moved, so its speech echoed and throbbed inside Severus’ brain. He suspected extreme power behind each utterance, tempered for mortal ears, of course. He tried to inhale to speak, but it just sounded like wind whistling through leafless tree branches. 

“You are being rude, you know.” The being bent low, close enough that Severus could smell the decay emanating from it. “I could have sent the Grim Squeaker to collect your tattered soul.” The being tilted its head, as if to study Severus. “Yes, there is not much left, is there?”

A bony hand reached out and fingered the blood-soaked cloak that was wrapped around Severus’ torso. “I should be glad you haven not performed the Rite of Ashk’Ente. That would have upset me terribly.” The being snorted smoke from its septal area and stood. “Still, you are a wizard.” It paused for a moment. “You _are_ a wizard, correct?” Before Severus could draw his next to last breath, the being waved its hand. “Of course you are; that is why I am here to collect you.”

The being spread wide its arms, its black cloak dripping from its frame like dark water. “Severus Snape, wizard of the Knights of Walpurgis, wizard with dubious morals, wizard with questionable tastes in friends, wizard with a thousand faces, wizard spurned of love, wizard who—”

“Enough!” Severus roared, choking on the blood now flowing from his mouth. If this was to be his afterlife, he hoped that this being would be absent once he transitioned. 

The thing paused. “Is it normal for your kind to interrupt important speeches?” 

Severus rolled his eyes… or did they roll back in his head? He was losing consciousness too quickly to tell. “Get it… over with,” he whispered.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” 

“What is there… to be… afraid of?” Severus rasped. “My life… has been… _hell_! Seems… my reward will be… more of the same.” His vision failed and everything went dark.

The being rubbed its chin, pondering the motionless form on the floor. “Hell, you say?” It snapped its fingers and an hourglass appeared. “It’s been ages since I visited Corfu. Maybe I can satisfy us both, Mr Snape.”

They say that hearing is the last sensory perception to remain as one is dying. Severus heard the sound of the scythe hitting the floorboards, the tremendous shockwave flowing over him and then all was silent.

* * *

The first thing Severus became aware of was the absence of pain in his neck. In fact, his entire body felt as if he were floating in a salt bath—buoyant and relaxed.

The screaming and shouting surrounding him soon dispelled the notion that he might have earned a reprieve from any sort of Underworld.

When he pried open his eyes and took in the scene before him, Harry Potter and the Dark Lord were circling around each other in increasingly closer proximity. Fear skittered down Severus’ spine, knowing that the culmination of his life’s work was at hand. He tried to manoeuvre himself in front of Potter, but was held on the spot, unable to move a muscle. 

“You cannot interfere,” the grating voice boomed inside his head once more. “That is the first lesson you will learn.”

Severus glanced to his right to see the being that had been with him in the Shack. “First lesson of what, exactly?”

The being’s voice chuckled inside his mind. “You do know who I am, right?”

Keeping his attention on the two wizards who were about to rip each other apart, Severus absently said, “Charon? Hades? Arwan? Osiris? Odin? Mictlantecuhtli?”

“No. Mictlantecuhtli was quite interesting, however. He looked like me, though with prolific amounts of blood decorating his body. Too much of a show-off, in my opinion.”

“Do you actually have a point to make? Who are you, exactly, and what lessons am I to learn?” Severus growled, frustrated that he could only observe the goings-on.

The being snapped its fingers and the whole scene stopped. Severus found himself face-to-face with a very brassed-off… deity? Demon? Elemental? He had no clue, and that was part of the problem.

“I could obliterate your entire existence and those of your loved ones in the time it takes for you to inhale a single breath.” It placed a bony digit on Severus forehead, which began to burn intensely. 

The burn soon became an inferno with the power of a thousand suns, dropping Severus to his knees as he writhed in agony. He tried to push away the hand administering the blistering pain, but he barely had enough energy to lift his arms. Tears coursed down his weathered cheeks, his mouth open in a silent scream. 

“Have some respect, brief mortal.” The pain stopped abruptly. “I am Death. No one has more power than I, save Azrael, the Old High One.” Death tugged Severus up so that he stood on shaky legs. “Are you suitably impressed, now?” At Severus’ brief nod, Death continued. “Good, because while I have unlimited cosmic power, it has been eons since I have had a respite.” 

A snap of fingers and the scene around them began to play out once more. “Damn, wrong one.” 

Another snap and all movement ceased once again. Death used his left hand this time to snap and an enormous clock appeared, its gearbox innards exposed for all to see. “The Great Attractor has this timepiece, which measures the life of the entire universe. As you can see, it bears a minute hand, a millennium hand, and an eon hand.” Death pointed to what looked like the beginning of time. “ _That_ is when I last took a holiday.”

Admittedly, that seemed like quite a long stretch without a break, but Severus couldn’t see what it had to do with himself.

Death, appearing to read his mind, went on. “I will oblige you, talking simian. I can only go on holiday if I have a replacement to fill in for me while I am gone. I tried to holiday in Siberia once, but the bodies that piled up after two weeks created a backlog of plague proportions. Thus, I have not tried again. That is where you come in.” 

“Me?” Severus tried desperately not to sound obtuse, but he knew he was failing. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” Death snapped his fingers and was suddenly wearing a linen shirt and Bermuda shorts. He handed Severus the discarded robe and scythe. “Here. When I am finished with my holiday, you shall have your life back.”

Several thousand thoughts raced through Severus’ mind, the most prominent one being, did he even _want_ to return to the living? 

Death apparently anticipated his dilemma. “You are worried about ‘after’.” Another snap of his bony fingers and the scene resumed around them, Harry and Voldemort battling one another furiously. “You need not be; you are about to be exonerated, after all.”

“Severus Snape wasn’t yours,” Harry was saying. “Snape was Dumbledore’s from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realised it, because of the thing you can’t understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you?”

Severus stiffened. Potter wouldn’t dare! Not especially in front of the Dark Lord? His deepest secret and regret, revealed for all to see? It was unbearable to think on it! He tried to move, to silence Potter, but once again he couldn’t stir from his spot.

“You cannot interfere, Mr Snape. If you did, you could set off a chain reaction that would seriously alter the universe,” Death informed him.

Severus had no chance to ask about the circumstances surrounding that cryptic statement, as Potter was running his mouth again.

“Snape’s Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother’s, because he loved her for nearly all his life, from the time they were children,” said Harry, and Severus watched the Dark Lord’s nostril slits flare in irritation. “You should’ve realised when he asked you to spare her life!”

“I have come to learn, over the millennia, that megalomaniac despots tend to think there are good people and bad people,” Death mused as the scene played out around them. “They are wrong, of course. There are always and only, bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides. I wish I could leave now, before this reaping comes about, but as these individuals are wizards, they are my responsibility to take. But I do hate reaping the ones that have a skewed version of their world and the events that transpire around them. Quite a mess they leave—their ectoplasm trails along the road, mucking up the path, bemoaning how they were not given a fair lot in life.” Death sighed. “Bit tedious, really.”

Severus just stared at Death. “Don’t you take everyone?”

“I am fantastic at delegating.”

“And you want me to do this while you take a holiday?”

“Would you rather I take a more religious stance? All right then.” Death tilted its head, cracked its knuckles (rather loudly, given there was no flesh to mute the sound) and threw wide its arms. “Lo, beleaguered peasant! Blessed art thou amongst all the lowly creatures of this world, for thou art chosen to receive mine essence and power to facilitate shuffling off the mortal coil. Shouldst thou deny this most honoured of gifts, thou wilt immediately become wormy food for thy wormy grave.”

“With a choice like that, it sounds like an offer I dare not refuse,” Severus snorted mirthlessly.

“I am disappointed you feel you have no choice. Do not think of it as dying. Just think of it as leaving early to avoid the rush.”

“When you put it that way—” 

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

What with all the existential discussion about the end of one’s life, Severus hadn’t been paying attention to Potter and the Dark Lord. The cannon blast resulting from the two spells’ clashing nearly floored him with the shockwave. 

“Ah, that is my cue,” Death said, matter-of-factly.

Death looked very out of place in the linen shirt and Bermuda shorts as he approached the prone body of Tom Riddle. The wizard’s form slowly shrivelled until it resembled nothing more than a mewling, diseased infant. Death shoved at the pile of robes with a flip-flop-covered foot. “Potter did try to warn you, Tom.”

“I am Voldemort!” the creature squealed, then curled up on itself.

Death signed and turned to Severus. “You see, Mr Snape? Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside of you while you live.”

Severus agreed. “Is it finally over, then?”

Death shook its head. “No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.”

Voldemort’s life had been more than some mere plop in the water, Severus reflected. It had been more like a tsunami, drowning all in its path and leaving behind destruction and chaos. “The aftermath will not be pleasant, not for this generation or those to come,” Severus said.

“That is why I chose you,” Death replied as he hoisted the whimpering creature in a bundle over his shoulder. “You know the trials and tribulations that this world will face. You know that no matter how fast light travels, it always finds the darkness has got there first… and is waiting for it.”

Their surroundings dissolved and reformed. Severus was startled to see that they were now in the Forbidden Forest. “I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered.

“Of course you can,” Death reassured him, traipsing over fallen logs as if on a merry jaunt. Severus followed him. “You have loved, Mr Snape, and love is stronger than death, even though it can’t stop death from coming. No matter how hard death tries, it cannot separate people from love. It cannot take your memories, either. In the end, love is stronger than death; hence you will do just fine.”

Death stopped on the edge of a darker region of the woods, an area where Severus speculated Aragog’s brood lived. “So, are you ready?”

Severus glanced down at the cloak and scythe he carried. “I have made questionable decisions most of my life, but I have only regretted one.” His gaze rose to study Death. “I don’t intend for this to be number two. Yes, I’m willing to—”

“Great!” Death nodded to Severus, turned and started his trek into the darker woods.

“Wait!”

Death paused and looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“What do I do?”

“You’re a smarter than average mortal. You’ll figure it out.”

Severus supposed that was true enough. The universe would hardly let itself unravel if he made a mistake. “Any advice?” he asked.

Death turned fully to meet Severus’ gaze. “Despite rumour, I’m not cruel—merely terribly, terribly good at my job.” And with that, Death faded from view, along with its baggage.

Severus stood there watching for an uncertain amount of time, but eventually he shook himself out of his reverie, slipped the cloak over his body and let it settle. It was flowing, oversized and he could see tripping over the hem, so he muttered a spell to shrink the garment. Once it fit nicely, he straightened, pulled the cowl over his head and cleared his throat. 

“Fear me, insipid humans!” he thundered, his voice echoing throughout the forest. 

The resulting squawk of birds and animals fleeing the vicinity made him feel quite pleased with himself. However, the errant thought that suddenly took hold in his mind was not pleasing in the least.

Just how long a holiday did Death intend to take?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take heed - from here on out, Severus is, for all intents and purposes, Death. 99% his reapings are from real events that happened. I am in no way making light of such events. I will not go into graphic detail, but just be aware that catastrophic events are horrifying of their own making.

Severus thought Death was a filthy bastard.

He also thought that Death’s skull would make a lovely, if oddly-shaped, soup tureen for some unsuspecting Muggle’s bone china collection. He even fantasized about fashioning Death’s femur into a ladle, his digits into forks and spoons, and his vertebrae into salt and pepper shakers. 

He’s had a long time to think about all this.

A very long time.

And time, like all substances of vice or virtue, when taken in excess, will eventually kill you.

It was coming up on three years since Death had bestowed his mantle upon Severus.

And Severus was exhausted. 

Not in body, of course—no, that was hale and hearty, impervious to injury, illness and all manner of dastardly doings that could befall someone in his position. 

No, it was his spirit, his mind that was past the breaking point. 

As soon as he had donned the heavy cloak, Severus wished he had chosen to remain completely and apathetically dead. He had thought he would only be fulfilling the needs of Great Britain and the surrounding area. 

He soon realized how short-sighted this expectation truly was.

The moment he draped the cowl over his head, he found himself in Bahr El Ghazal, Sudan, surrounded by thousands of people in various stages of dying. The sights and smell were so overpowering that they immediately sent his stomach roiling; he ran to a large tree and, though he did not become sick, it was a near thing. After taking a few gulping breaths to steel his reserve, he returned to the scene and began his task.

Starvation was a horrific, gruelling way to die.

The famine had claimed the youngest and most vulnerable first, followed closely by the elderly and those with weakened immune systems. As Severus moved amongst the crowd, the souls of the dead children clung to his cloak, nestling themselves in the folds, which became more voluminous with the addition of each child. Once settled, they took on an almost cherubic quality, their gaunt bodies filling out, their hollow faces gaining a peace they hadn’t known in life. 

The first questions had begun to trickle through Severus’ mind.

Where was he supposed to take them? Did he ferry them to their version of Heaven or Hell? Was he merely a collector, a picker-up of unconsidered trifles? His thoughts were interrupted by the wail of a mother holding her lifeless child to her breast, rocking back and forth.

Severus bit the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions at bay. Considering his time with the Dark Lord and his followers, Severus assumed he would be able to shoulder the burden of tragedy, but how could any mortal bear this overwhelming grief and despair? He slowly reached for the babe, intending to gather it in his arms, when he realized he had a more sinister power at his beck and call.

One brush of his hand against the mother’s arm and she too followed her infant into the darkness. 

Severus recoiled swiftly, but the damage was done. He watched as the once-frail, emaciated woman rose and took her child, her now smiling and healthy child, into her arms and looked at Severus.

“Thank you, merciful companion of Muhammad,” she said in rapid Sudanese, “for allowing me to journey with my Faheema!” The woman bowed multiple times and turned to walk past the area where those around her still suffered. 

He was about to call out to her, to ask where she travelled, but the lightening of his cloak drew his attention. A majority of the child-spirits loosed their grip on his cloak and followed the woman, whom Severus noted had stopped and waited for them. When they caught up to her, they disappeared, like a mirage fading from view. 

Severus supposed that answered some of his questions about where they were to be taken. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that five children remained, but with one step to the left, Severus gathered ten more.

His reaping was constant for at least twenty-four hours, by Severus’ reckoning. Dozens of child-spirits would settle onto his cloak, then he would reap two to four adults, who would then gather the children between them and they would fade from his sight. Occasionally, an elder adult would join those who had been reaped, and then a massive group would leave to follow them into—Severus assumed—whatever afterlife they believed in.

He was secretly relieved that he wasn’t required to assume a specific religious persona for each person he reaped. Death was universal, and apparently it didn’t matter what form he took… they all knew who he was.

* * *

After the famine in the Sudan, Severus had been whisked to the Takhar Province of northern Afghanistan, where he was greeted with blood-curdling screams and debris and rubble sliding down hillsides at an alarming rate. The ground beneath his feet shook violently and several cracks and fissures appeared in the ground.

From famine to earthquake. Dear Merlin, how would he survive this?

* * *

When Severus finally encountered a lull, a year and a half after that fateful day in May, he began searching the popular holiday destination spots on the continent, intending to find Death and tell him he could shove his scythe where the sun never shined. He was beyond exhausted, his tears for humanity having ceased fifteen months in. After the earthquake, and resulting tsunami, in Turkey, Severus had had enough.

He searched Italy, Spain, France, Greece and even a few Slavic countries, all to no avail. Just as he was about to investigate Tenerife, the lull was over and Severus was summoned to stand in front of an old house on a rainy night. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps. Being a wizard, of course, Severus knew exactly which residence was hidden from view.

12 Grimmauld Place.

Even as he thought of the house, the buildings at No. 11 and No. 13 slowly moved apart to reveal a residence that was better-maintained than those surrounding it. Lights flickered warmly in the front windows, revealing figures moving around as if dancing—clearly some sort of celebration was taking place.

With a certainty borne of his tenure as Death, Severus knew he was supposed to reap someone at this location. And for the first time since he’d accepted his role, Severus rebelled against the idea of snatching one of the younger generation from his world, especially if it was to be the one who owned this place. 

But Death had instilled in him the knowledge that to tinker with the fate of one individual could destroy the whole world, had cautioned him about ‘interfering’, emphasizing that it was an unforgivable crime to alter someone’s fate. But he had no idea what the precise consequences would be if he chose to refrain from reaping the person designated for this night.

Hermione Granger, however, would soon learn the ramifications of such an act.


	3. Chapter 3

Of course Severus knew the ins and outs of Grimmauld Place, so he slipped around to the back garden entrance and into the secret passage that led to a plethora of corridors that wound through the floors of the old house. From what Death had implied, wizards and witches could see him with ease. With these particular individuals, there was the added benefit of his being their long-thought-dead professor to send them possibly catatonic. He could hear raised voices, laughter and music, so he followed the sounds to their source and observed the goings-on from the shadows. 

Potter was smiling and twirling the Weasley girl in his arms in time to the song playing from an old-fashioned radio. He recognized a large number of his former students, mingling amongst themselves, some drinking, some laughing. Several Weasley spawn were in various locations around the room, though he noted that George Weasley looked especially solemn, and was nursing a tumbler half-full of what Severus suspected was Ogden’s Best. He idly wondered if he was here to reap the twin and return him to his brother, but he wasn’t drawn to the youth, so he studied the rest of the crowd. Glancing around the room, Severus saw that the party was missing two notable figures: Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Seeing as there was a floating marquee gracing the air above the gathering, touting ‘Congratulations Hermione!’ in multicolour script, Severus thought it odd she was not in attendance. 

A lone figure separated itself from the group and headed in his direction. Severus watched as Luna Lovegood hesitated near his hiding place, even as he sunk further into the darkness. She blinked several times, frowned and finally shrugged her shoulders and was about to continue on her way when Longbottom rounded the corner from the kitchen and grasped her hand to stop her.

“You seen Ron?”

Lovegood gave him a smile. “They’re probably upstairs having a snog.”

Severus was vaguely disappointed in Granger’s taste, then appalled when he saw a rather lusty gleam in Longbottom’s eyes as he gazed upon Lovegood.

“Think there’s a corner where _we_ could have a snog?”

Lovegood pulled him into one of the many parlours of the house. Severus was heartily glad he wouldn’t have to see or hear the end result. He was, however, drawn towards the stairs by the now-familiar and innate sense that he was supposed to fulfil his duty on the second floor. 

Yet he paused at the bottom of the steps. Who could there be at such a gathering that was ready for death? Was there some decrepit individual in one of the bedrooms he was to reap? The compulsion to climb the stairs was relentless, though, so he obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

The door to Sirius Black’s old bedroom was open, the room empty, so Severus passed by. He paused momentarily at Regulus’ chamber entrance and placed a hand on the door. Not there, either. 

“Hermione, you’re so warm…”

Severus came to an abrupt halt outside the last bedroom on the left. The door was open just a crack, but it was enough to see the Weasley boy pressing Hermione Granger against the wall, snogging her as if trying to devour her face. Severus swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at the young wizard’s ineptitude.

“Ron, please, it’s been so long!”

“I know, you’ve been away at uni forever...” 

“Well, I’m done now. Time to celebrate.” 

Severus rolled his eyes as he caught glimpses of the two divesting themselves of their clothing in a hurry. He didn’t have the wherewithal to stay and watch this. He had someone to reap and then be gone, on to the next job. 

“Oh, yes!”

Severus tried to turn away and search the other rooms, but found that his feet were rooted to the spot. A chill skittered up his spine as he understood why he was prevented from leaving. He gave a closer look at the room containing the two young people and inhaled sharply at the memory of Regulus telling him about this specific room.

Arcturus Black’s bedroom was lethal for anyone except Arcturus himself. 

Regulus had never gone into details as to why no one but his grandfather could use the room, but, knowing the Black family, it could be a myriad of things. Severus was about to step into the room and inform the distracted pair that they should choose a less dangerous locale for their tryst when a muffled shout startled him.

“Help!”

Severus’ moved closer to the bedroom, his cloak billowing out in its familiar pattern to accept the victim. When he opened the door wider, he saw Weasley wrapped in bedcovers like a Christmas cracker, the tasselled ends twisting ever tighter. The wizard was trying to claw his way out through the thick fabric, but was unable to tear it.

Granger, half-dressed, was frantically attempting to pull off the cover around Weasley’s head, but every time she placed her hands on the material, her hands started to smoke. She scrambled around in their discarded clothing, all the while screaming for help. Severus doubted anyone would hear her with the raucous going on downstairs. Finally securing her wand, Granger started casting spells, all to no avail, Weasley’s screams increasing in volume.

A gasp drew Severus’ attention from the struggling wizard to Granger, who was staring at him. “Professor? How…”

“I can’t breathe!”

Granger panicked and pulled at the covers again. “Please, help me!” she implored Severus.

“I… I cannot.”

Tears were spilling down her face and her fingers were now bloody. “I know you can help, stop this! It’s killing him!”

Severus pursed his lips. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

She froze. “You… you’re here to kill… him?”

“No, you silly girl! I’m here to take him once he ceases to be amongst the living.” Severus was irritated. There were very few instances where he had to explain who or what he was to those he had come to reap, and he didn’t have time for a long drawn-out conversation on the subject.

“You can’t! I won’t let you have him!” Granger bent over the desperately writhing form once more, further injuring her hands in an effort to free Weasley. 

“It is inevitable, Granger,” Severus sighed. He made his way around the bed, knowing the time was drawing near. Weasley’s movements were slowing. “Move aside.” He reached down to take hold of the wizard’s body. 

“No!”

Granger—foolish, brave witch that she was—impetuously shoved herself between Severus and her lover’s body in a vain attempt to prevent his reaping. The moment she touched Severus, however, she froze and huffed out a breath, her eyes closing as if falling asleep.

“You headstrong girl!” Severus yelled, catching Granger before she fell to the floor. “You have interfered!”

In his peripheral vision, two hourglasses appeared, both with their sands running out. Granger’s name was on one while Weasley’s was on the other. Severus had never been presented with this before… what was he supposed to do?

“Save Ron,” Granger whispered, as she grabbed weakly at his chest. “I’ll take his place.”

“That is not how this works, Granger!” he spat. He gently laid her on the floor, noticing that Weasley’s movements had stilled. “Everyone is reaped at their appointed time!”

She managed to open her eyes, her look beseeching. “Make an exception.”

Severus wanted to lash out, wanted to destroy something. How could he choose between the brightest witch of her age and the most idiotic wizard ever to stumble into dangerous situations? Maybe if he appealed to Granger’s sense of fairness, she would see it differently.

“Your life is worth more than his, Granger. You have just graduated university; you have your whole life ahead of you. You can go into Magical Law, fix the system and its injustices.”

“Not worth it if Ron isn’t there,” she rasped. “Please!”

Fists clenched, Severus looked at the hourglasses, the tiny pile of sand larger on the bottom of both. “You will regret this, Granger,” he muttered. 

He touched Weasley’s hourglass and the fall of sand stopped. Severus was not prepared for the flash of light that filled the room, and when he blinked to clear his vision, he noted that Granger’s hourglass was now on its side. What had happened?

Weasley gasped and thrashed around until he was free of the bedcovers, emerging sweaty and covered in long striations that indicated where he’d been—or was supposed to have been—squeezed to death by the fabric. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he coughed and tried to stand, but fell back to the floor. “Hermione?”

Granger stood next to Severus, clearly confused. She patted her body and studied her hands, which were free of the damage she had done to them. “I’m not dead?” she murmured as she turned to him.

“Don’t look at me, Granger. I told you not to interfere,” Severus retorted. “You have no idea what you’ve done!” 

“Hermione!”

Severus and Granger took in the dishevelled wizard staring at them.

“Professor Snape?”

“I’ve lingered too long,” Severus grumbled as he turned made his way to the door. He had no inclination to tell the fool wizard the unbelievable gift he had been granted.

“Hermione? What’s going on?”

“I… I’m not sure, Ron. But I think I have to… go.” She had a distinctly wet hiccough. “I don’t expect I’ll see you again. So… so you need…” And then she was sobbing. 

Unable to stomach the scene, Severus silently glided towards the top of the stairs, but something halted him before his descent. He frowned, puzzled. Why could he not move? Had Granger’s meddling, and his consequent decision, altered reality for him… for them? Did this mean that Death would be returning from his holiday to fix the mess he was now faced with? 

When several moments had passed and nothing catastrophic happened, Severus glanced over his shoulder to see Granger trying to edge her way out of Arcturus’ bedroom, impeded by Weasley trying to hold onto her. She had donned the rest of her clothes and held her wand at the ready. 

“No, Ron. You can’t come,” she said, keeping Weasley at a distance. “You’re safe now. You need to stay.”

“What happened, Hermione? Just tell me! I can fix it, I swear!” He lunged to embrace her, but Granger blasted him with a spell that sent him flying across the hall. Apparently she retained her magic, whatever state she seemed to be in. 

As he lay there, insensate, Granger bent low and started weaving her wand as if she were knitting. “ _Obliviate_ ,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

When she was finished, she pocketed her wand, withdrew a hair tie and fixed her messy locks into a haphazard ponytail. She stared at Weasley for a few more moments and then made her way toward Severus, brushing away the tears that continued to fall. 

“I’m ready.”

Severus raised his brows. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Am I not going with you?”

He snorted. “Unless it escaped your questionable mind, I am Death, Granger. I reap the dead, the dying, the soon to be pulmonary or cardiac challenged. Because of your untimely intervention, I cannot fathom the limbo you must be in. You are not dead, or I would feel a compulsion to ferry you to the Otherside. Nor are you living, for I do not sense that spark within you that is usually associated with incarnate individuals.” He observed her closely. “Yet, you do not decay. I cannot say what you are.” Frustrated, he wrapped his cloak around him and made his way down the steps. “Do as you wish, Granger. You always have.”

She huffed and followed him. “Why haven’t you questioned what you are, what you’re doing? How did you get this way? Are _you_ dead?”

“None of your business.” There was no way he was going to tell her about the deal with Death.

“It’s my business because I want to find out what I am, what I’m supposed to do.”

Severus turned on the landing and snarled, “You were _not_ supposed to interfere, Granger! No one was reaped this night, so I don’t know the cataclysm you have triggered! Forgive me if I think your existential crisis is laughable in its insignificance!”

That brought her up short. She blinked, sniffed and then straightened. “Well, if you don’t know, then we’ll find the answers together.”

Oh, no. Severus knew that determined gleam in her eye, the one she always had before she answered every question in class with textbook precision. 

“No.”

She jutted out her chin. “If you won’t help me, then I need to stay with you until I do, to avoid creating further disasters.”

He harrumphed. “Good luck keeping up,” Severus spat, feeling that accustomed tingle that meant he was being pulled to another reaping. 

Her words were lost on the wind rushing, and when the noise had abated, he felt a certain satisfaction that he had left her behind.

“Oh, my God!”

Severus snapped his eyes open to see that he was on an aeroplane full of terrified people, including one Hermione Granger. “No,” he groaned.

The horror that was about to happen finally registered in her mind, and she looked to Severus, her pallor draining until she was sheet white. “I’m sorry!”


	4. Chapter 4

Very few of the passengers were looking in their direction. In fact, they were all unusually quiet, though some hiccoughing sobs could be heard several rows back. 

“Where are we, Professor?” Granger whispered.

He glared at her. “I would have thought that obvious, Granger. We are on a Muggle aeroplane, presumably one that is about to crash.”

She gasped. “Oh, God! I haven’t said goodbye to my parents!”

Severus was about to bite out that she hardly had to worry about injuries, but then stopped. He didn’t know if that was actually true. When he had been present at a disaster of this magnitude previously, he suffered nothing more than a belching of smoke and flame propelled towards his person, which never caused harm. 

But the balance had been upset, and there was no telling what disaster was about to befall them.

His thoughts on the matter were silenced as the screams of the passengers suddenly rose to a deafening level. A mercifully brief moment later, the plane impacted with a thunderous explosion. Instead of gathering the lost souls around him, as was his first instinct, Severus waved his scythe to clear the surrounding area of smoke and flame, searching for Granger amidst the wreckage. Finally he spotted her, crouched into a ball, huddling in a corner of what looked like the remains of an office building, her form steaming.

“Granger!” Severus roared over the din of further, smaller explosions.

She didn’t move and Severus feared the worst. He whipped his cloak in a wide arc, gathering souls within its folds as he made his way towards the witch. 

When he reached her, he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up to stand on shaking legs. “Are you injured?” he shouted.

But she didn’t answer, staring unseeing at the utter desolation around her, silently crying. He shook her.

“Granger!”

She inhaled deeply and let out a blood-curdling scream. Her eyes were wild and she fisted her hands in her hair, shaking her head as if trying to rid herself of the reality of the scene. Severus’ first thought was to leave her there until she gathered her wits, but a metallic groan sounded throughout the wrecked structure and he began to feel a force dragging him away. He shook Granger again and then, when she refused to respond, he slapped her. 

Her cries came to an abrupt halt and she took in sucking gulps of air. “W… what happened?”

He didn’t have time to explain, as the force drawing him away was becoming stronger. “We are leaving. Settle yourself.”

“Where… where are…”

In an uncharacteristic move, Severus pulled her close and wrapped her in the safety of his cloak, though it was weighed down with the souls he had to ferry to the other side. “Calm, Hermione,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

It had the effect he wished and she buried her face against his chest, trembling. “Sorry, I just…”

Her words were lost in the jerk of transition... and they found themselves on another aeroplane. 

“What the devil?” Severus snarled. He kept Granger’s face pressed against his chest, not wanting her to see that she was about to experience the same horrific ordeal again. And then there were screams, and impact, and death.

The sequence of events repeated twice more, Severus each time gathering more souls until his cloak was ponderous beyond belief. When at last things came to a lull, they were in the middle of a grassy field, fire and fuselage wreckage strewn about them.

Severus looked around for Granger, spotting her about twenty paces away. She was kneeling beside a woman whose bright blue blouse was drenched in blood, murmuring to her softly. Granger didn’t move until the woman’s agonized cries had ceased and her painful struggle was over. Then she rose and came towards him. 

“Are we done?” Granger asked, her voice flat.

Severus studied her, noting that her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Her jeans and purple peasant-style blouse were covered in soot, singed in a few places. Her hair, always in disarray, looked as if she had been hit with a bolt of lightning. Her face sported some smudges of ash and he could see that she shook in minute tremors.

Sensing no compulsion to depart, Severus nodded. “For the time being.” He grasped her elbow and squeezed. “You did well, Granger.”

She blinked rapidly and sniffed. “No, I didn’t.” She scrubbed at her eyes and coughed. “I was… I was so…”

“Thank you.”

Granger cut off her self-recrimination. The woman in the bright blue blouse stood before her. The woman reached out and clasped Granger’s hand. “Thank you for staying with me until the end.”

Tears filled Granger’s eyes as she bit her lip and nodded. “I’m sorry it had to happen.”

The woman gave her a sad smile and turned away. Several more individuals approached Granger and repeated the sentiments. This lasted until all of the souls had been expelled from Severus’ cloak, their ghostly figures slowly disappearing into the nearby forest. 

“How could this happen?” Granger whispered, watching as the last soul faded from view. 

Severus shook out his cloak and let it settle around him. “Death by violence, death by cold or starvation—they are the normal endings of the stately creatures of the wilderness. The sentimentalists who prattle on about the peacefulness of nature do not realise its utter mercilessness. And yet, humans can be far more merciless than nature.”

“So we’re nothing but animals,” she said listlessly. She turned to look at him with a hard glint in her eyes. “Are you inured to their suffering, then? Do you not care?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Do not think to lecture me, Granger. Humans say it is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished—unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets. The people that set these events in motion did so in the name of a deity of whom they have no true concept, and whose ideals they have perverted. They try in vain to bend others to their will, and when all else fails, violence is their last refuge. 

“I have been reaping since I was recruited in the Shrieking Shack. If you must know, I have no stomach for this work, and I fear the person that would actually delight in such. When one is unafraid of death, one’s capacity for violence increases. When you are unafraid of death, you are a lethal adversary.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because I cannot find the being that cursed me into this existence, you silly girl!” Severus began walking south, not caring if Granger followed or not. 

“Wait for me!”

He heaved a sigh and paused long enough for her to catch up. 

“Thank you,” she said, a little contritely. 

He glanced at her. “Whatever for?”

“For shielding me.”

Severus pursed his lips. He had hoped she would not retain any memory of that particular moment of weakness in the course of events. “I did not need a catatonic person to hinder me, that is all,” he groused.

She gave him a tentative smile, the first since Grimmauld Place. “Of course not.” She smoothed back her hair and tried to contain it with a hair-tie. “Where to next?”

“I go where I’m drawn, Granger. That’s all I know.” 

“Have you searched for… well, that being?”

He snorted. “Yes. But I suspect he won’t be found until he wants to be, the blighted arse.”

“Should you speak against him like that? Couldn’t he… I don’t know, curse you if you malign him?”

“Ha! I have been cursing his existence for more than two years and I’m still walking the earth, doing his bidding. I’m already cursed, Granger. What more could he do to me?”

“I wouldn’t tempt fate if I were you,” she muttered under her breath, though Severus heard her.

He was about to respond when he felt that pull in the center of his chest, so he grabbed Granger’s arm and they were whisked away.

They saw a table in a darkened room. Two men sat across from each other, several candles providing enough light to show empty cups that smelled strongly of alcohol.

“Can they see us?” Granger asked softly.

“Only wizards, witches and preternaturally sensitive individuals can see us.”

One man spoke, in a language Hermione recognized as Brazilian Portuguese, gesticulating wildly to the assortment of sticks lying on the table. The other man laughed, picked one up and placed it in his mouth.

Granger’s eyes widened. “That’s a Roman candle!” she hissed. “What is he…”

The man’s compatriot struck a match and lit the fuse. 

“What are you doing?” Granger yelled, about to launch herself across the table and retrieve the firework.

Severus gripped her around the middle and pulled her into his lap. “You cannot interfere!” he ground out in her ear. 

She wiggled, trying to free herself. “He’s going to blow himself up!”

“Cease your writhing, Granger!” Her bum was pressing against his groin, invoking sensations he had not let himself feel in years.

The man with the Roman candle between his teeth was still laughing, taunting the other man and pointing to it. The man sat across from him began inching away and yelling for his friend to remove the explosive from his mouth.

His plea was rendered moot with a loud bang.

Granger stopped her movements and stared, her hand clapped over her mouth. She looked at Severus, then closed her eyes and slid off his lap. “Such a waste,” she rasped.

Severus sighed as his cloak latched onto the foolish imbecile who had played Russian roulette with his life. “Death comes to all men, but some just cannot wait.”

They made their way outside into the humid night and walked a few kilometres until they reached the edge of a tropical forest. There, the man freed himself, glowered at them as if it were their fault he had removed himself from the gene pool, and then walked away, past the thick vines hanging from the trees.

“Where do they go?” Granger asked, looking as if she were about to follow him.

Severus placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Elsewhere. Heaven or Hell, according to their beliefs? I know not. I care not. I am only tasked with facilitating their voyage between life and death.” He squeezed her shoulder and retreated. “I have never felt compelled to journey with those I reap, but my instincts tell me it would not end well.”

She frowned. “But you’re Death. What could possibly be worse than that?”

“I do not wish to find out, Granger. But, if like that man we just reaped, you wish to be careless with the life you are given, go right ahead and follow our next client.”

“I was just asking,” she snipped. 

“Do try and curb your insatiable curiosity next time.”

“Rude.”

“Have no doubt.”

When they arrived at their next location it was still night, but the air was decidedly chilled and the scent of snow was in the air. They heard rustling and then the sound of metal being hammered upon. They followed the sound to a tall pole in the middle of a harvested corn field. 

“What in the name of Merlin?” Granger asked, as she observed a man setting up what looked like a tent atop the pole.

Severus followed her gaze, taking note of the two heavy cables running from the T bar at the top to somewhere in the nearby woods. “Zeus’ balls, is that man as thick as his waist?”

She must have caught on to what he saw. “Those are live wires!”

There was a brilliant flash of light, a smell of ozone and charred flesh accompanied by a brief shout, and then a thud as a body landed at their feet. The man, dressed in camouflage with a bow and quiver of arrows secured to his upper body, stood up and glanced down at his remains. 

“Shit. I thought they were dead.”

“Just like you,” Severus quipped.

“You should’ve been more thorough in checking the lines,” Granger admonished. 

Severus raised his eyebrows. “I see you are becoming accustomed to my current profession, Granger.”

Did she actually blush? “I’m hardly old hat at the moment, but I think I can help… eventually.”

“Hmm.” Severus flipped his cloak and the soul of the unlucky hunter was dragged within. “If nothing else, you may provide… company on this journey.” 

They started towards the barren forest. “Are you lonely, Professor?” 

“Cease calling me ‘professor’,” he growled, hunching his shoulders. “You may call me… Severus.”

“Oh, that’s just sick!” their passenger said from beneath Severus’ robes. “Y’all are teacher and student? I’m calling the authorities!”

Granger took out her wand and sent a jinx to incapacitate the man. “You won’t be calling anyone, dunderhead.” She gave Severus an innocent look. “What?”

He couldn’t help himself. Severus threw back his head and laughed. For some reason, he now looked forward to reaping… as long as Hermione Granger was by his side.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the delay - the flu is draining.

An odd sort of companionship began the day Severus ‘obtained’ Hermione Granger.

In the following months, she provided intelligent conversation and wit, and acted as a foil for his profession. He, in turn… kept her alive? He still had no clue as to the ramifications of her act, but he insisted that she remain close, just in case.

“In case of what?”

“Again, Granger, I have no idea.”

This frustrated her as much as it did him. She truly hated that nebulous, grey area in which she existed, and more than once he had caught her staring at pictures in a small wallet that she had brought with her. He quashed his sympathies and reminded himself that she had chosen to take Weasley’s place, for some god-forsaken reason. It came to a head, however, near Christmas, when she was particularly sensitive to those they were reaping. The last straw came when they gathered two friends that had fallen through the ice on a lake in the U.S.

“They’re so blue,” she whispered. “And they… they’re holding hands. They were trying to save one another.” Tears welled in her eyes as she embraced the two men and led them to Severus’ cloak. 

She was eerily quiet the rest of the evening. When Severus asked after her state of mind, she shrugged, then said. “Harry and Ron were trapped beneath the ice in the Forest of Dean.”

“Yes, I know.”

She gave him a piercing look. “How? I know Harry never…” Her eyes widened. “You! You were the one who placed the Sword of Gryffindor in that frozen pond!”

Severus was surprised, really. He had assumed Potter would have revealed all his weaknesses the moment he could crow about them. But from the looks of it, Potter had not said a damn thing. 

“What of it?”

She came to stand close to him, toe to toe. “You were helping Harry all along, weren’t you?” Her eyes shone fervently, like when she had known the answer in class and couldn’t wait to tell everyone what she knew. “You protected him from the beginning!” She frowned. “But why? You hate Harry.”

Unable to bear the unravelling of his secrets, Severus leaned in close and snarled, “Cease your mindless prattle.”

It had no effect; she continued to speculate aloud. “Was it on Dumbledore’s orders? But then why did you kill him? If he was keeping you safe from Voldemort, then why—”

Beyond livid, Severus grabbed her arm, twisted her around, pulled her to his chest and covered her mouth with his hand. He bent low to hiss in her ear.

“I kept that fool child from killing himself and those imbecilic enough to follow him. I am sure you have deduced that Potter himself was a Horcrux.” At her slight nod, he continued. “I won’t tell you how a Horcrux is made, Miss Granger; it is, after all, the darkest of magics. No one who dabbles in that sort of magic escapes unscathed, including observers who did not participate.” His nose grazed the shell of her ear. “I have seen and done things no mortal should see or do, all to protect the best part of someone that I cared for deeply. Do _not_ think to reduce my sacrifice to a paltry notion that I merely hated Potter.” He shoved her away. “You know nothing.”

She was shaking, but by Merlin’s balls, she was still stubborn. “Then tell me!”

“No!”

“Why? I’m stuck for the rest of eternity with you, you could at least speak to me as if I matter!”

He snorted. “No.”

“You pig-headed, insufferable bastard!”

“You had best remember that.”

Her face was flushed from her tirade and she seemed to deflate a little. “I forgot for a moment that you were a bitter, vindictive wizard. For a moment, I only let myself see Severus Snape: dedicated to his work and compassionate in its execution.” She crossed her arms self-consciously. “Thank you for reminding me, Professor.” She turned and trudged through the snow until she reached a tree and sat underneath it, huddling into the meagre cloak she wore. 

Feeling no compulsion to leave for another reaping, Severus followed the frozen shoreline, idly wondering when the two men would be declared missing and a search might take place. He refused to consider Granger’s offer to talk of his past. There was no use in rehashing and wallowing in such horrific pain. What she didn’t know, could not hurt her.

Or him.

* * *

Two hours later, and still no compulsion to fly off, he grew tired of her moping. He found her where she had seated herself earlier and spoke before he could think better of it. “We could return, for an hour or two.”

She swiped at her eyes and frowned. “Return where?”

He hesitated. “To England. To see Potter, if you like.”

“Are you serious?” she asked with barely concealed anticipation. She rose and dusted the snow from her jeans. “We can talk to him? And Ron?”

Severus grimaced. “No, just see them. Interaction is to be kept to a minimum.”

“But…” Her objection died on her lips when he narrowed his eyes. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

* * *

Granger pressed her nose to the window of the house in Godric’s Hollow. “Harry looks happy,” she sighed. 

Severus stood behind her and took in the scene. Potter, along with the Weasley girl, sat in front of a whimsically decorated Christmas tree, a fire crackling on the hearth. Another witch sat on a sofa; though she looked familiar, he could not place her. 

Granger’s sharp intake of breath soon brought to light who exactly the girl was. “Oh, God, what is Lavender Brown doing…” Her words died as the youngest Weasley son came from another room and sat next to Miss Brown, leaning close to become quite cozy with her. “No,” Granger whispered.

“What parameters did you place on that Obliviate spell, Granger?”

“That I was still at uni and planned to further my studies outside the UK,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “That I would be back some day, but I didn’t know when.” 

Laughter from the group filtered outside to where they stood. “Has Mr Weasley been known to…” He didn’t know how to put it delicately. “Cheat?”

She flinched but shook her head. “Not that I know of. Harry would’ve told me if he had.” She placed her fingertips upon the glass, but they left no mark. “He looks really happy, though.” Her hand dropped. “I’ve never seen him look like that with me.”

Severus cleared his throat. “He’s a dunderhead, Granger.” He spared the idiotic ginger a glance. “He looks like he has gas.”

Granger choked then started snickering. “He does look rather bilious.” This seemed to amuse her greatly; soon she was laughing so hard she was doubled over, bracing herself on her knees. “He would get that look sometimes around Crookshanks, and then there would be a large hairball on Ron’s pillow the next day.”

“For once, a cat I think highly of,” Severus muttered.

Granger wiped away the tears that had gathered and sniffed primly. “Kneazles are extremely intelligent.”

“Then your beloved feline should have clawed Mr Weasley’s face off. Admit it, the cat was just lazy.”

“Not a fan of cats?”

A chill surrounded Severus, one he had not felt in ages, as he said, “Not since Minerva snuck into my Potions classroom and ate the pickled newts I had readied for my Slytherin class. Served her right that she got indigestion.”

“You mean…” Her voice trailed off.

“Mean what, Granger?” Severus growled, turning to see what had distracted her from her incessant questioning. 

“Oh, my God,” Granger whimpered.

“Wrong postal code,” the entity intoned. 

Death, in all his ivory glory, stood behind them. The blue light that had filled the eye sockets last time Severus had seen him was now red. He crossed his arms and glared at Severus. “Cats are nice.”

Granger nodded quickly and moved to stand next to Severus. “I’m quite keen on them, myself.”

The red light faded to blue once more as he studied Granger. “Child, what have you done?” Death turned to Severus. “ _What_ have you done?”

Severus was about to answer, and give Death his two pence worth in the process, but Granger surprised him. 

“Don’t blame him, sir… erm, your highness, uhm, lord. I chose to come along, to take someone’s place, so things wouldn’t implode and create a paradox that would lead to multiple alternate universes and such. And besides, you didn’t give him an instruction manual, or any direction whatsoever. So, you can’t be shocked when he has to, well… wing it and then hope for the best,” she admonished with her index finger. “Sir,” she added hastily.

Death looked somewhat sheepish. “Well, I…”

“Do you mean to tell me that all I needed to do was disparage a feline and you would appear?” Severus spat. “You faff off to God knows where, and leave me to face this existence with no training and no idea how to handle Granger’s predicament?” He was this close to wrapping his hands around Death’s throat, or rather vertebral column. 

“Let us fix that, shall we?”

Death snapped his fingers and everything around them came to a halt. He reached for Granger, but Severus shoved her behind him.

“No! The girl deserves to live!”

Death looked from Granger to the group inside the house. “There must be a reaping.”

“Not Ron,” she whispered. “I voluntarily took his place, you can’t reap him.”

Death rubbed his bony chin. “A predicament, indeed.”

“Take me,” Severus said without a hint of regret. “Take me in her place. I reject your previous offer to give me back my life upon your return. I am old and she is just starting out in life, full of potential.”

Granger wrapped herself around Severus. “No! I won’t let you!”

A heated ache seats itself in Severus’ chest, and in a moment of pure weakness, in the hopes that at least one person would remember him with fondness, he embraced Granger and buried his nose in her hair. 

“Hermione, you are on the cusp of beginning your life, of being who you were meant to be.” He pulled back and cupped her face, letting his thumbs wipe away the tears that were now coursing down her cheeks. “You were meant to fight for those who have no voice, to champion the weak and lift them up so that they may see the sun.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Just as you have done with me.”

Her eyes closed. “Don’t send me away, please,” she sobbed.

He clenched his jaw to keep the tears at bay. “When I am gone…” She took hold of his cloak and twisted it. “When I am gone, ask Potter why I watched over him. Then you will know the measure of my soul.” Severus nodded to Death and stepped away.

Before Granger could launch herself at Severus, she collapsed to the ground, unmoving. Severus removed his cloak and handed it and the scythe to Death.

“Ah, I have missed this.” Death shuddered all over as he donned the garment and brandished his staff.

“I won’t,” Severus grumbled. He bent down and felt for a pulse on Granger’s neck. “She needs to be somewhere warm.”

Death snapped his fingers again and time resumed. He stepped over Hermione’s unconscious body and rapped very loudly on Potter’s door. Harry opened it, looked around in a puzzled manner, and finally noticed his best friend lying in the snow near his sitting room window.

“Hermione!”

He rushed forward, picked her up and took her inside, laying her on the sofa and stoking the fire until it burned hot enough to chase the chill from her body.

The only other noise was the howl of winter wind through the barren trees.

* * *

“That was a noble thing you did.”

Severus walked on, not caring that Death still accompanied him. 

“You care for the girl.”

Severus gnashed his teeth. “It was logical, practical even. She will do wonders in the area of Magical Law, I’m quite sure. Give those petty bureaucrats a run for their money. I’m almost sad that I’ll miss the squashing of their bollocks beneath her heel.”

“Is that painful?”

Severus gave Death the side-eye. “If you had flesh, I could show you just how excruciating it would be.”

“I do not think I need flesh to accomplish this. While I was in Tenerife, swimming in the sea, a rather large hammerhead shark erroneously decided that I would make a tasty morsel.” Death straightened and shook his cloak. “Being regurgitated upon the beach was not pleasant.”

Severus rolled his eyes. In truth, he was tired. Tired of waiting. If he was bound for eternal torment, he wished to be on his way and cease this infernal chit-chat. Comparing being masticated by a shark and being kicked in the balls was not his idea of stimulating conversation. 

He also didn’t want to think about Hermione Granger.

“Do stop for a moment, please, Mr Snape.”

Severus sighed and leaned against a building, crossing his arm. “Hurry up.”

Death speared him with a red gaze. “Do not rush me.” He pulled the cowl further over his head and disappeared into what looked like an abandoned house. 

Severus heard a yelp, a scuffle and idly mused about having company as he went wherever he was headed.

It was his last thought before everything went dark.

* * *

Something cool was pressing on Severus’ forehead.

“He looks worse than before.”

“Shut up, Ron.”

“I’m just saying, why—”

“Get out! Go home to Lavender.”

Severus pried one eye open then promptly closed it against the glare of light coming in through an open window. His bones ached like hellfire, and every single hair on his body felt like it was electrified.

Wait.

His eyelids shot open, but all he could see were blurry images moving in the background. His mouth was parched, as if he had been sucking on sand for ages. When he tried to move, it sent pain throughout his limbs. He moaned and immediately someone entered his line of vision.

Hermione Granger.

“How are you feeling?” She rolled her eyes. “Never mind, silly question. Of course you feel absolutely wretched.” She leaned over and helped him sit up a little. “Think you can take a few sips of water?”

After he swallowed the refreshing contents, he shoved aside the cup. “How,” he rasped. “How am I here?”

She set down the cup on a bedside dresser. “Good question. I wish I knew.” She ran her fingers through his lank hair and moved it away from his face. “I came into my bedroom last night and there you were, spread out on the duvet, unconscious. And your whole body was smoking. Almost set off my fire alarms.”

“I don’t remember…” He touched his head. “Where are we?”

“In my flat on Fulham Road, in Chelsea.”

“Chelsea? How the hell did I get from Godric’s Hollow to Chelsea?”

Granger paled. “Is Godric’s Hollow the last thing you remember?”

Severus nodded. “It’s Christmas, and I’d just left…” His breath shuddered. “You went back, to Weasley.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You bloody, stubborn wizard. It’s just after Easter! And I never went back to Ron. He’s quite comfortable with Lav-Lav, thank you very much.” Angry tears welled in her eyes. “You left me there, without even saying goodbye. Just took the decision into your own hands without consulting me!” She grabbed a tissue from a box on the dresser and blew her nose. “Remember when we were sent to Yellowstone Park in Montana, and you thought we were there to reap that idiot that filled his life raft with discarded elk antlers? And I told you it would be him _and_ his friend, but no, you knew everything and we had to come back and reap his friend an hour later because they both drowned? You never listen to me; it always has to be done your way.”

Severus rubbed his temples. “Are you done?” 

She had a mutinous tilt to her chin. “I’m just getting started.”

“I really, _really_ wish you wouldn’t.”

She must have seen something in his expression, for she abruptly became contrite and pulled the covers up around him. “Sorry, I just get carried away. You’re tired; you’ve had a long journey… I think. Are you hungry? Thirsty?” She grabbed the cup, waved her wand to refill it and practically thrust it in his face. “Here.”

He frowned. “What’s wrong, Granger?”

Her bottom lip wobbled as she sat next to him on the bed. “I just… I’m really glad you’re back.” She gently took his right hand and ran her fingers over his. “I… I missed you.”

Severus cleared his throat. “I missed you as well, Miss Granger.”

“Don’t you think, after all of this, I’ve earned the right for you to call me Hermione?”

“Possibly.”

“I think after seeing that couple who were fused together in a compromising position atop that mountain in Nepal, I deserve be called ‘goddess Hermione the benevolent’.”

“Not in this lifetime or the next,” he said with a snort, remembering reaping the confused couple.

Both were lost in thought for a time, then Granger squeezed his hand. “I asked Harry… about what happened in your past.”

Merlin’s beard, he had forgotten about that! He wanted nothing more than to dive beneath the duvet and never emerge. He tried to shift away, but blast Granger, she held tight. 

“No, you can’t hide from this, Severus.” She brought his hand to her cheek and nuzzled his fingers. “You were exceedingly brave.”

He tried to pull away, but he was too weak to do much of anything. “I was young, foolish and fancied myself in love with someone that was beyond my reach.”

She gave him a wan smile. “Sounds familiar.” She looked down at their entwined fingers. “We’re a lot alike, you and I. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for Ron to turn his attention to Lavender Brown.” She shrugged, as if it didn’t bother her. “He’s happy.” She glanced at Severus and smiled softly. “And so am I.”

He became ill at ease. “Hermione…” 

“Stop.” She gave him a stern look. “I’m going to go make something to eat. I want you to rest and then we’ll talk some more. All right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well, I could strap you to the bed. Then you’d be forced to listen to me. Forever.” She winked at him and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Forever…” she threatened in a spooky voice. 

He watched as she closed the door, feeling extremely tired. His eyes were on the verge of closing when a deep chill permeated the room.

“I can see what you meant when you said she would squash your bollocks beneath her heels. I should like to watch that, too. I think I would greatly enjoy it.”

Severus choked and struggled to sit up. “Not _my_ bollocks! Theirs! Those in power!”

Death thought for a moment. “Ah, yes. I see what you mean.” He gave Severus a thorough perusal. “You are looking much better.”

Severus refused to admit that he was afraid. He clenched his fists to keep them from shaking. “Have you come to take me, then?”

“Take you where?”

“To wherever I’m supposed to go. To the land of eternal night. How the hell am I supposed to know?”

Death tilted his head then snapped his fingers. A dishevelled figure appeared at his side. “Meet your replacement.”

Severus’ eyes widened in surprise at the unkempt man with spectacles and cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. 

“Fuck off!” the figure said crossly.

Severus frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I, mate. I was eatin’ me Sunday pork pie and Himself himself shows up and asks iffen I want a job, helpin’ rape the dead.”

“Reap,” Death and Severus corrected in unison. 

“Ah, see? That makes much more sense, now, doesn’t it?” The uncouth man hocked a glob of phlegm on the floor near Death’s feet.

Despite the fact that Severus’ stomach was turning at the display, he tentatively asked, “My replacement, you say?”

Death nodded. “Albert has volunteered to take your place. You are now free to live your life with that lovely girl.”

“Oi! I was drafted!” Albert spat.

“Remind me to remove your tongue later.” Death placed his hand over the area of his chest where his heart would have been, if he’d had one, and gave a deep bow in Severus’ direction. “I thank you, Severus Snape. You have done me a great service. It was only fair to return the favour.” He snapped his fingers, and he and the odd man disappeared.

In his wake, a piece of singed parchment paper floated down from the ceiling and landed in Severus’ lap. He unfolded it carefully and read it.

_Take care not to meet me again too soon, Mr Snape. The world is more interesting with you in it._

A slow smile unfurled on Severus’ lips. 

With Hermione Granger determined to make the journey with him, he had no doubt it would be interesting, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously thinking about a sort of 'side note' work that shows more of Severus' and Hermione's journey before the end of the story (ie, the time they spent reaping together). I was under a deadline for this story, so I didn't get to flesh it out the way that I wanted. But at the same time, I didn't want to be all depressing... because let's face it, the story is about dying and the multitude of ways that it happens. Kind of a bummer to begin with. So, to keep the original story from depressing the hell out of someone, I opted to keep it relatively light, or as light as it could be and still keep a somber tone. So, possibly be on the look out for that!


End file.
